Five Nights at What?
by chromodynamic
Summary: After spending five nights of his life in a haunted Pizzeria trying to not get killed, Mike Schmidt is looking for a new job. Luckily, he finds it, and it's ironically quite similar in nature to his first job. Let's just say that Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria isn't the only restaurant with animatronics...
1. Chapter 1

My name is Mike Schmidt, and screw this job right in the pooper. No, seriously. Okay, let me explain. For the past five nights I've been on the night watch at a place called Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, at a working wage of $120 per night. It wasn't good enough, but it was the only job I had.

The restaurant itself was pretty freaking bad. Sure, the rooms that the public saw were all nice and squeaky clean, but behind the scenes everything was decrepit, rusty and caked with detritus. Wires were hanging from the ceiling, releasing the occasional spark or two into the disgustingly messy gloom of the two corridors to the back office where I was held up all night. And that wasn't the worst of it, either.

You see, that goshdarned pizza place used animatronics to entertain the children. Sounds innocent enough, right? What if I told you the animatronics weren't rooted to the spot like in the rival restaurant chain Chuck E Cheese, and possessed great enough artificial intelligence to travel from room to room, seeking out the largest concentration of customers? Sounding creepy yet? What if I told you that, at night, the keep roaming the pizzeria? What if I told you that, for the past five nights, these very same animatronics have been trying to murder me?

Sounds like balloon juice, right? Exactly. Just some urban myth. They wouldn't have these animatronics around children if they weren't safe. No, these walking-talking metallic death machines were as safe as houses.

Yeah, I believed that too, until I heard the guy on the phone tell me that the animatronics would skin me alive and stuff me into an empty suit if they saw me. I was a little freaked out then. All my absolute worst fears were confirmed when the pirate-fox-man thing (creatively entitled 'Foxy') was running at the back office with his gleaming hook raised, ready to rend and tear. Yeah, not so safe, huh?

Then there's that… golden suit. It's empty, but… it moves from place to place. Through doors. Without touching or moving anything in the rooms. I don't freaking get it. Are these goshdarned suits haunted or something?

Actually, that wouldn't surprise me. I don't believe in ghosts or any of that malarkey, but when you're looking through a grainy camera screen at these robot monkeyfighters _and they're looking back at you_, there's just this ethereal quality to them. It's really creepy, especially when you switch to a camera, and it's practically in an animatronic's mouth...

Oh, and the guy on the phone? As it turns out, he's dead. What killed him?

The animatronics.

Yeah, screw this job right in the pooper. $120 a night wasn't worth the mortal peril. That's what I told the store manager. He looked confused for some reason, like he had no idea what I was talking about, which was obviously balloon juice. Thusly I reminded the dense frackwit of the Bite of '87 that removed a child's finger (was it a finger? I can't remember what the phone guy said), and then I proceeded to tell him that I had quit. That was two days ago, now. It had been a great two days, because I knew that I would never have to go back to that place again.

Did I overreact? Heck no. I mean, put yourself into my shoes. You would've done the same in my situation. _Anybody_ would have done the same in my situation. Of that, I've no doubt.

Of course, then I was out of a job. Ironically, I found myself looking at the available jobs in ironically the exact same newspaper I'd found the job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, though it was a later issue.

Then I saw that one job was going for a hefty $300 a night - but there was an element of déjà vu about it. If I took that job, I was to be a night guard for five nights per week at some kind of restaurant. I gulped. It was suspiciously similar in nature to the Freddy Fazbear advertisement, and I wasn't having any of that baloney.

The place was called the Song & Dance. Upon closer inspection, this place - my heart skipped a beat out of fear - also had animatronics. Looking at the picture told me that these animatronics were beyond anything I'd ever seen before. I couldn't see any facial features - the picture wasn't good enough quality for that - but they at least looked humanoid, and not like modular fatty blobs with soulless eyes that glowed in the dark.

What was I waiting for? I mean, I had all of the qualifications to be a night guard. How else would I have gotten the job at the Pizzeria? It couldn't be any worse than that, right? At this point I was fairly certain that there was no job worse than working at that place, apart from maybe viscera cleanup detail from that one game… or clearing out mines (the explosive kind).

With as much enthusiasm as I could muster (granted, it wasn't much considering that fact that I would be working once more with animatronics), I grabbed my phone and proceeded to dial the number on the advertisement. Despite my misgivings with working with more mechanical creepies, I really couldn't afford to just ignore that amount of dosh.

I heard the dial tone drone on for a few seconds before somebody answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, there," I answered, having thought for a moment that nobody would answer. "I'm calling to apply for the job at the night watch?"

Strangely enough, the person answering me sounded oddly like the phone guy. The realisation sent a chill down my spine. It obviously wasn't him thought, because he was kind of not alive. "Oh, I was wondering when somebody would call in about that. So, you know what you're going to be doing?"

"Well, my previous work was a night shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, and as this work is basically the same, I'm going to presume I'll be held up in a back room checking cameras."

"Yeah, that's pretty much it. Oh, and you'll be doing checks around the restaurant once every two hours."

Actually, doing little walks around the place sounded rather refreshing. Of course, if the animatronics DID turn out to be murderous, those walks wouldn't be happening. "Yeah, I can do that. Will I be working alone?"

"A security guard will be checking in now and then, who is also on the night shift." Well, that was a relief. The human contact would probably help with any potential nightmares. That, and it also helped reinforce the ideal that the animatronics of Song & Dance weren't going to kill me. If they were, the security guards would have been dead long before me. "Oh, and, some of the animatronics are a little… quirky…" My heart shuddered in my chest at the familiarity of those words. I could distinctly remember the phone guy saying something very similar. "I mean, one of them, she keeps finding these hatchets… but, uhh, she's never actually hurt anybody. Look, I've got ago, so bring your resume to management at 12 Noon tomorrow, and we'll see if we can get you the placement, okay?"

So this animatronic, it - _she_ - had never hurt anybody? Well, there was a first freaking time for everything. And what about the rest of the animatronics? Did they also have 'odd quirks' such as 'keeps finding axes'? "Yeah, that's grand, but…" I trailed off. Was I straying into unsavoury territory? I hoped not, I could really use the money from this job. "Uh, what're my working hours?"

"Eight hours per night, from ten o'clock to six o'clock." That didn't sound too bad. It was longer than the hours I'd worked at the Pizzeria, but the place was more reputable so I had far less doubts as to my safety.

"Yup, that sounds good. 12 Noon tomorrow, right?"

"Precisely."

I took a deep breath. Hopefully this wouldn't turn out as terribly as the Pizzeria. "Okay, I'll be there."

"Oh, before I forget, what is your name?"

"Mike," I replied easily. "Mike Schmidt."

"Okay, let me just write that down… Oh, and one more thing - Try not to startle Mayu." And the line went dead.

"Well, that's pretty ominous."


	2. Chapter 2

I lightly rapped my knuckles on the employees only door, waiting patiently for it to be answered. This place sure _looked_ nice. There was no dust or detritus or any of that sort of crap littering the place. It was in that sleek sort of art-deco style, so the likelyhood of me seeing anything like what I saw at Freddy Fazbear's was slim to none. Hooray, no hideously blobby animatronics!

I didn't have the security uniform from Song & Dance yet, so instead I had opted to come in a sort of smart-casual getup, with my resume neatly tucked under my arm.

The door was answered by a rather tall, handsome-I-suppose man dressed in a white tuxedo. Atop his head was purple hair worn in a rather unusual style. Uh, wait a minute... he had _purple_ hair. _Purple._ In _this_ kind of fancy establishment. He cocked his head quizzically. "Mike Schmidt?"

"Ah, yep. That's me." I frowned. This guy's voice was not the same voice I had heard over the phone. "Hey, where's the guy I was talking to on the phone?"

"He was, ah," Purple-hair glanced over his shoulder. Was something wrong? It sure freakin' felt like it. "Taken ill, unfortunately. Come we'll discuss your placement." I followed Purple-hair down to a small office-like room, where he sat down on one side of the desk and I sat down on the other. I stole a quick glance about the room, seeing nothing of note. Indeed, the office didn't even seem like it belonged to him. "Your resume?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." I passed him the file that I had been keeping tucked under my arm, one of the few things I kept as neat as I possibly could. A had a rather haphazard approach to life - things were exactly where I needed them, and although it never looked pretty it always worked out in the end. Okay, _almost_ always. "Oh, uh, I didn't catch your name."

Purple-hair glanced up from my resume, having been fully dedicated to reading it. From his expression, he was suitably impressed for some reason. "Gakupo."

And that was an odd sounding name if I had ever heard one. Behind… _Gakupo_ there was a blinded window, and I could just see through the tiny cracks to the restaurant beyond. I gulped, twiddling my thumbs patiently. I sure hoped that I would get the job. If I didn't, I had no goshdanged idea where I'd turn.

"You're lucky, Mr. Schmidt," Gakupo began, laying my files gently on the desk. "Not only have we not had another applicant, but I seriously doubt that - if we had - they'd be able live up to your resume." He cleared his throat noisily, glancing through the shuttered window behind him. Hey, I could hear… singing. Was that what had briefly caught this weird man's attention? "So, previously a job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, hmm? I see, you were the nightwatchman, just like the job you're trying for now. And how was that?"

I let out a long, drawn out sigh. What was good ol' Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria like? What was it like to work at such a prime establishment? Christ, where did I begin? "I was held up in a decrepit back room for six hours at a time, trying to not get caught by the glitchy animatronics there. Not only that, but-" I abruptly cut off as I noticed a long, drawn out gouge in the desk, like somebody had taken the tip of a blade or some oversized needle to it. There was a shiver down my spine as the mental image of a blade's tip made me think of the one animatronic I'd feared the most. Foxy. The _thundering _of his steel claws _hammering _down the corridor, the _slamming _of his deadly-sharp hook on the door, the _rictus leer _that counted as his face, the -

Thankfully, Gakupo interrupted my train of thought before I pissed myself. "Mike?"

"Sorry, just… Sorry, I sort of phased out for a second. Thinking about those hellish five nights."

A wry smile crept onto the man's face. Only now did I notice how the lilac of his hair and the ivory of his suit contrasted to the dull greys and earthy greens of the office. This was most certainly _not_ his office. "Your hellish five nights at Freddy's?" He shook his head. "Sorry, just has a nice ring to it." Gakupo gestured toward the window behind him. "Here, do you want to look at which vocaloids are on today?"

I stood, as did he. "Pardon? Vocaloids?"

Gakupo nodded, pulling on a thread beside the blinds, and the angle of the shutters changed so that we could see through. "Oh, I see their concept has not been explained to you. Vocaloids are our animatronics, utilising the latest technology fresh from Japan. They each have their own names, personalities, voices… Each vocaloid is unique. The name itself is what we would call a portmanteau - a combination of Vocal and Android. They not only act as entertainment for our guests, but also waiters and waitresses." He gestured to some oddly dressed - probably some of the vocaloids he'd mentioned - people on a stage. Despite the obvious soundproofing of the room, I could still hear the lot of them. The singing wasn't half bad, either; a far cry from the hellish screeches and twisting, gurgling laughter of freakin' Freddy and co. "On Mondays, it's what we call the Crypton Family that are active. Up today are Miku, Rin, Len, Luka, Kaito and Meiko. You see, we have different vocaloids active each day. These vocaloids will also be active the following night."

I nodded, though I wasn't exactly sure why they had such odd names. They weren't English, that was for sure. "Okay, yeah, I get it. Is that why I have to check around every couple of hours?

Gakupo nodded, evidently I had hit the nail right on the head. "The exception to this rule, as there will always be exceptions to any rule, is Miku. As the most popular vocaloid, she is active every day, and thus active every night. Because of this, she is perhaps the most experienced of us. Of them. Most experienced of them. Sorry, I consider all of us - that being both the staff and the animatronics - to be a family. I'm afraid you'll be dealing with Miku a lot. Who knows, perhaps you'll make a friend of her?"

Perhaps I'd make a friend of her? Nevermind that - 'of us'? That was an odd freudian slip. When I thought about it, it was actually somewhat suspicious. Was Gakupo maybe one of them? No, he couldn't possibly be. I could tell by the way he moved. He moved with a supple ease, not with the jerky movements I'd come to expect from animatronics of any kind. "What about Mayu? I heard she was a little quirky."

Gakupo shifted nervously. "Ah, yes. Mayu. She's somewhat of an odd case. We don't put her on stage anymore. We're not sure why, but she seems to be somewhat bugged. She occasionally reactivates on some nights, with no particular pattern. You should be okay if you just don't startle her."

I frowned, glaring in silence at one of the animatro - at one of the _vocaloids _on stage. She had very (read: extremely) long bluish-greenish hair. It was a particularly distracting feature. "What if I do startle her?"

The man was silent for a second. "Best case scenario, she'll run away and hide and hopefully deactivate from shock."

"Worst case scenario?"

"You'll lose a finger or two."

So she was pretty dangerous, then. Not dangerous enough to kill me, but dangerous enough to hurt. Despite the danger, it was a definite improvement over Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. "Sounds easy enough."

The man gulped. "But that's what the cattle prod is for."

"Cattle prod?" That seemed rather frakked up. Why on the heck would I need a cattle prod?

Gakupo spoke as if he had heard the question. "To punish vocaloids whenever they get too unruly." He glanced toward the desk. "I take it you saw the gouge?"

I nodded. "Looks pretty nasty. I take it that was…?"

"Mayu, yes." He extended his hand. "You still want the job? Shake my hand."

I grinned. "How could I refuse?" With _that_ pay grade on offer, I couldn't afford to pass this job by. Besides, working here would be interesting, and it was a damn sight safer than Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. I grabbed ahold of his hand and shook it with vigour, hoping beyond hope that this wouldn't end messily.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Schmidt. Be here by 9 PM so you can get sorted." A wry smile once more crept onto the man's face. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."


End file.
